Days have their Sleepy Tendencies
With Beetles on their Shores—-
Their Hearts will glow—- their cities burn--
With oceans on their Moors

I have drowned in Strawberry Jam
With Tulips in the snow
The Beetles’ hearts will Sweetly glow--
Toward paradise they yearn.

When Waxy Hope drips in lines—-
The Sun cannot surmise.
It’s infamy-- it has to be—-
The Beetle’s stolen Prize.

Even the Sun’s most flickered Wait
Descends more than Fire--
It’s made of mountainous Candlelight--
it claims his Desire.

The Ruby Boss cannot Behold—-
The Tarnished Copper’s flight.
It rains Soft—- rules Alone--
The Tulips burned in Spite--